


(sex) on the beach, with sharks (the sweetness and light remix)

by voleuse



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-03
Updated: 2003-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 04:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wants sex on a beach, but the drink'll do just as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(sex) on the beach, with sharks (the sweetness and light remix)

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 3.07.  
> A remix of **not jenny**'s "(sex) on the beach, with sharks."

There was this thing, a thing Angel and I did, where we kissed if we got too close.

Then I killed him.

Then he wasn't dead, and he was a secret, and we got too close. And then we kissed, and everyone knows, and who the hell are they to decide who I kiss or don't kiss? Sure, I kissed him, but that was more of a, a fluke. A kissing fluke, and who the hell are they?

They have never had to run a sword through someone they love, and think about feeling his hands sliding down their bodies, and, ew, I just had a gross mental picture, because I don't want to think about Angel and anybody but...

I kissed him, or he kissed me, and I know that'll never be enough. I _know_ that, but I know better, and neither of us is willing, though ready, to get all groiny with each other again.

I don't know why they don't understand me, why they don't trust me. They either think I'm all, like, sweetness and light, or some ho-bag ready to bang the first pretty face that shows up.

Hell, if that's what they think, why shouldn't I? Not Angel, I know, because that would be of the bad, but Angel and I kissed, and now my skin feels like it's a live wire, except skin-like, instead of wire-like.

I feel like I'm buzzing, and I might as well get buzzed.

When I get to the bar, some dive that makes me sorry I didn't bring that fruity-smelling antibacterial gel, Faith is sitting there, in the back, but I decide to ignore her. It's a no-fights, no-bites night, and I'm looking for a pretty face. The bartender's not bad, and the drinks are damn good, but I'm not that desperate. I want sex on the beach, but the drink'll do just as well.

For now.

I don't know how long I'm drinking, or how drunk I get, but the second I stand up, Faith is there, pulling my arm, and why shouldn't I follow her to the bathroom? She's the prettiest face I've seen all night, and I did come to the bar on a mission.

She's angry, I can tell, but she wants me more, and I can tell that, too. Maybe because her hands are grabbing my ass and her tongue is thrusting into my mouth. She slams me against the wall, and I hope that no one else is in the bathroom, not that it's the greatest place to do this anyway, and oh.

She's _there_ and she's hot and rough and her teeth drag against me, hurting me hurting me and hurting me more, and I want more and she gives me that much, and oh, oh, it's never been like this, I've never done this, and I want more, more, and she's growling at me, and then she bites me. Right. There.

The room shudders, or I do, and it's possible I scream.

And all she does is laugh.


End file.
